We’re a Sinead O’Conner Song, Now

That song makes me thing of my ex-husband and I now. Today it was final. “The judge granted you a divorce,” the lawyer’s secretary said. Loddy Fucking Da!

I thought it was going to be easier today. I thought I was ready but I spent most of the day sad and angry. I was mad at him today. I was angry for his telling me that I was nothing but a burden to him. I was angry with him for not being more patient with me, for not supporting me when I wanted to do the only thing that was keeping me sane, painting. For driving me away with the barrage of negativity and blame and disappointment. For not coming after me when I left. For not stopping this snowball from turning into an avalanche.

My blame in all of this is not outside of my acknowledgment.

I wondered if he would contact me at all today.

Last night I was talking about possible post-divorce-rebirth tattoos with my daughter. The conversation turned silly as Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty was suggested. I joked that I should ask him if he wanted to get matching divorce tattoos. She thought that was weird and cute so I foolishly e-mailed him with the offer. He replied that I must have drunk e-mailed him, with a little smiley face. The next morning I wrote, “Nope. Totally sober on that one.”

Then at around 1pm he wrote to me that he was not proud of this divorce, that he saw it as a failure and that he wanted to remember positive memories. I didn’t know if this was a reference to my tattoo joke. I told him I didn’t mean to imply that I wasn’t taking it seriously. I was just resorting to my sick sense of humor, as usual. I told him I saw today as a tragedy and that I had been crying all morning.

His reply was surprisingly open and emotional. One day he’d like to talk about it more, he wrote. He questions why I left him and people ask him what was so unbearable about him, that I left. I never imagined anyone would be asking him such questions. I assumed he was easily and clearly painting a picture of blame that negated such a question.

I told him we needed healing and that I was here when he was ready, the millionth time I’ve said something like that.

“Here’s to getting through the day,” I said.

And then as quickly as his showed his vulnerability, he pulled it back and sent me a long e-mail about finances and our settlement. Back to business.